


I Feel Like Glitter

by leere



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Awkwardness, Black Character(s), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13280604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leere/pseuds/leere
Summary: He wishes he wasn't still in love with her.





	I Feel Like Glitter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story of firsts! First time I've written Token, first time I've written Nichole, first time I've written het in over six years, and first time I've written black characters in a good five years! My recent fandoms have been heavily white, just kinda how things happened. I've written a biracial character, but he was very assimilated and his blackness was never integral to stories. Here, since race is almost always prevalent to either of these two's story lines on SP - whenever they get story lines, anyway - I figured I could gently explore that dynamic; of them feeling like outcasts due to their skin color. The racial commentary is very mellow, since this is intended to be light-hearted (if a bit angsty) fluff, but it's in there. I hope I did it respectfully, 'cause my white ass tries to educate myself, but I'll never know from a first-person perspective. I think part of why I like writing Kyle is because he's Jewish, like me, and there's a certain mindset to being Jewish that I think all Jews have, and I can incorporate that into Kyle's perspective in a way gentile writers probably can't. I've always thought, "if I had a Magen David tattooed on my forehead, and I couldn't cover it up, I'd probably get a taste of what it was like to be a PoC in modern America." Anyway, with that lingering in the back of my mind, I wrote this.
> 
> On a lighter note, Token's my third favorite character, and I've never known how to write fic about him, since the fandom's coded him as uber-straight, and I haven't touched hetero-fic since 2011. I like Tyde, but Clyde's not fun to write imo, so I've avoided writing it. I've considered Token x Kenny, but all attempts felt OOC on both ends. I don't think they're very compatible, though it's a cute concept. Then I finally gave in and decided to try to write Tichole (Noken?). I really love Nichole (hell, I love all the girls), and I just kinda imagined this girl at my old school who I could imagine Nichole looking like, and I waxed poetic from a guy point-of-view. Surprisingly easy, and fun, considering I never write fluff lmao. So yeah. Hope you enjoy!

Eight days ago, Nichole told Token she wanted to "just be friends". And he told her, "okay", even though, in actuality, it most definitely wasn't okay. Because he's still in love with her, and that really, really, _really_ sucks, as Clyde had so eloquently told him.

Currently, they're at the mall, on a "platonic date", as Nichole had insisted to Red when she'd teased them about it, and Token totally wants to hold her hand, but he knows she wouldn't like that. So he's got his own hands shoved deep in his pockets, for lack of anything better to do with them.

"You wanna go get a pretzel or something?" Nichole asks, all her shopping bags in hand. They've been to H&M, Hot Topic (Nichole likes the pins they sell; she decorates her purses with them), and Victoria Secret (watching her rifle through lingerie had been a bit torturous, in more than one way), but Nichole's insisted on carrying the bags by herself. Token winces every time someone looks at him, because he's sure they're thinking he's an asshole for not helping her out.

Nichole saying his name draws him out of his reverie. She's stopped walking in favor of looking at him fully, and Token gets a bit lost in staring at her face, because her make-up is rose gold-themed today and it's absolutely mesmerizing, but he makes himself answer, "Yeah, sounds good."

"'Kay." Nichole starts walking again, and Token follows from behind, staring longingly at her back. She's in high-waisted booty shorts, and it's tantalizing. Not even in an entirely sexual way; he just misses intimacy. Nichole's just so soft. Most girls are, but Nichole's skin is as soft as her heart is, and that's why Token's so in love with her.

"You hear what happened to Kenny?"

"Huh?" Token asks, walking a bit faster so he can catch up with her. He watches her high heel-clad feet so he can fall into step. Her shoulder brushes his bare arm. She's in a pink long-sleeved halter top - Token knows this because he loves listening to her rant about fashion and makeup and geology - and the corduroy brushing his bare arm feels electric. Or maybe it's just his imagination.

"Jeez, dude, pay attention," she laughs, and Token has to look away because seeing her smile is too much for him. "I said, did you hear what happened to Kenny?"

"I don't think so," he says, glancing at a potted plant as they pass it. Someone poured their slushie into it. He frowns.

"He broke his arm. Really severely - at least, according to Butters. 'Fractured in three places'." Nichole shakes her head, and her curls bounce. "I think it's just another excuse to get out of school."

"Kenny's never in school anyway, though. And he never even bothers with excuses; he's just either there, or he's not."

"I dunno," Nichole shrugs. "Kenny's an enigma."

Token's sensing that that's the end of the conversation, but he doesn't want to stop hearing her voice, so he continues, "You know what else is an enigma?"

"No, what?"

"Stan and Kyle. What the hell is going on with them anyway?"

Nichole giggles again. "Dude, okay, the girls _always_ argue about this. Wendy says they're totally gay, and I'm inclined to believe her, 'cause she dated Stan for years, right? She'd know if something was up. But Bebe swears up and down they can't be because 'an ass like Kyle's can't belong to a gay man.'"

Nichole does a great Valley Girl impression to impersonate Bebe here, and it makes Token laugh. "Bebe said that?"

"Yeah!" 

Token snorts. "Bebe's head's up her ass."

"It really is!" Nichole laughs. "Like, really, I love her so much, but she's so freakin' dumb sometimes."

"She's smart," Token counters, "she just doesn't have common sense sometimes."

"A _lot_ of times," Nichole giggles, and this time, Token watches her, and finds himself smiling at the way her eyes scrunch up at the corners and her teeth glimmer. Suddenly she goes serious and looks at him intently. "Hey, do you wanna make any stops? I'm being super rude - dragging you to all my girly shops, but completely disregarding you-"

"You're not being rude!" Token says, maybe a little too quickly. She's too nice, too thoughtful, which is why part of him knows he doesn't deserve her. He shrugs bashfully. "I just came to keep you company. I don't mind."

"Aw," Nichole says, smiling up at him. Token's heart beats a bit faster. "That's so sweet, Tokey."

The nickname hurts more than it should, and he's trying to take deep breaths as they reach the food court. Nichole makes a beeline for the vendor that sells hot dogs and pretzels, and Token follows, patting at his hair. He needs to go to the barbers soon; he's starting to look a little like Gerald from Hey Arnold.

He goes to stand beside her, and smiles at the miserable punk girl who's wearing a fake hot dog on her head and taking Nichole's order.

"You want anything?" Nichole asks once she's done, looking at him suddenly. 

Token looks down at her. She's nearly a foot shorter than him - 5'3 to his 6'1. His lockscreen used to be a picture taken by Cartman of all people, since he's actually a fairly decent photographer. Heidi had hosted a party a few months back, and at some point, Token found himself hoisting Nichole up on the kitchen counter to kiss her. Cartman, who tends to get strangely sentimental when drunk, had seen them, squealed a bit, and insisted on taking some pictures. After that, Token's lockscreen had been a near-professional picture (that's quality was only slightly lessened by Cartman's inebriation) of the two of them chastely locking lips and smiling softly for a good seven months.

He changed it after she dumped him, because he figured it'd be weird to keep it. Now when he opens his phone, he's greeted with a picture of his dog, Ollie, who's a big furry Newfie that drools a lot. Ollie's pretty beautiful, but he's not as beautiful as Nichole.

"No," he tells her, although the truthful answer is, 'You'.

"Okay. That'll be it," Nichole tells the cashier.

"Two dollars and twelve cents," she says flatly, reminding Token of a certain friend of his. 

"Shit," Nichole says, fishing a handful of bills from her pockets. "I don't have change."

"I got you," Token says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a stray quarter, which he places on the counter.

"Thanks, babe," Nichole says, and then freezes and stares at him. He stares back.

 _Slip up,_ he tells himself.  _Just habit. Nothing big. Doesn't mean anything. Fuck._

"Sorry," Nichole says, looking a little mortified. "Habitual. Um, shit. I mean, like - habit. I'm sorry."

The cashier clears her throat. She's squinting at them through eyeliner-heavy eyes. "I got a line," she says, and gestures behind them. There's a mother and her son, and that's it.

"Sorry," Nichole repeats, shoving the bills at the girl and taking her pretzel and drink when it's handed to her. Then she's hurrying off, without checking if Token's following.

So he does. "Keep the change," he tells the cashier, before awkwardly running after his ex. "Hey! Nicky! Wait up!"

"Don't call me that," she says, stopping suddenly and turning to glare at him. "Don't make me miss you."

He stops and looks at her, hating how sad she looks. He wants to give her a big hug, wants to kiss her pain away, but that's not something he can do right now, and he hates it. He wishes he wasn't still in love with her. Wishes they weren't both hurting. 

Nichole sighs and grabs his arm, pulling him away from the stream of people walking through the food court, so they stand in front of an empty table. There's an older couple nearby, so she keeps her voice low when she says, "Do you know why I broke up with you?"

"No," Token says, because he honestly doesn't. He's spent the last week laying awake at night and trying to figure out why, and he's spent those same waking hours trying to convince himself all the things he might've done wrong weren't actually the real causes. It's been pretty horrible. 

"Because I was getting freaked out," she tells him. "I mean, we're seventeen, and everyone either acts like we're married, or like they're waiting until we _do_ get married. And it's scary, okay? It freaked me the hell out."

"'Cause you don't wanna marry me?" Token asks, a little pathetically. He'll admit he's considered it - fantasized about them being the best looking and happiest married couple on the block, with the prettiest and coolest kids. Three, is what he sees when he dreams of their future. Two girls and a boy. 

"No," Nichole says, and her eyes glimmer, like there's tears she won't let fall. "Not because I don't want to marry you. Because I don't know if - if I deserve that. With you. Part of me knows we're perfect together, not because our skin matches but because - because our hearts do, okay? We fit. But we've pretty much been together since fourth grade, Token. And as much as I love you, I wonder if we're holding each other back. If there's someone else for me - someone else for you."

"If you're holding me back, I'm okay with it," Token says. He's not sure if she's really so concerned for him, or if this is her nice way of saying she wants to see other people, but he's betting on the former, out of foolish hope. He really doesn't want to lose her. "I don't - you're the only person I wanna be with. You're everything to me."

"Token," Nichole murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest, tightly; it's not a gesture of annoyance, she's just hugging herself. 

Token wishes he could do that. "I wanna marry you," he tells her, quietly. "I really, truly do. If - if that's a scary thought for you, then we can wait, I'd never rush you, I - but I'd love to see you walking down the aisle. I wanna see you in the prettiest dress in the world, because you deserve that. Prettiest dress for the prettiest girl. And - and I wanna see you be happy. But if your - if your happiness doesn't require a wedding dress, or, hell, if it doesn't require _me_ , I get that. I respect it. I just - I hate when you hurt."

Nichole presses her fingers carefully under her eyes, which Token knows means she's trying not to cry so she won't mess up her makeup. He pulls a tissue from the pack he always keeps in his pocket and offers it to her.

"Thanks, Mom," she jokes, taking it from him and carefully dabbing at her eyes. "You're too much, Token Black."

"Is that good or bad?" he asks, although her tone of voice suggests she means it fondly.

"Good," she says. "Very good." She finishes wiping at her makeup and looks at him, contemplatively. "Should I give you another chance?"

Token, impulsively, sits down on the ground, in the middle of a crowded mall, and looks up at her with puppy eyes.

"You're so fucking annoying," Nichole giggles, but she sits down, too, cross legged, and leans in to kiss him.

People are staring, but Token's used to that, and so is Nichole. Which is good, because it lets them both focus entirely on their first kiss in a record eight days.

 _This is heaven, and she's an angel,_ Token decides. It's too perfect. Her soft lips, her vanilla perfume, her warmth.

Nichole pulls back and grabs at his hands. Token's missed her touch, missed how soft her hands are and how solid her grip is. 

"We're not letting anything stand in our way, okay?" she tells him, giving his hands a squeeze. "Fuck anyone, namely Cartman, who says we're only together 'cause we're black. We're together because we love each other, and because we're invincible together. Yeah?"

"Yeah," he whispers, and his heart feels heavy with how much he loves her. So he says that. 

"I love you, Nichole." The words taste like the bittersweet past, the honeywarm present, and the sugarpink future. 

And Nichole smiles and says, "I love you, too."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the lovebirds, they have six spectators.

At one table in the cafeteria sits Tweek and Craig, on a lunch date. Tweek's watching Token and Nichole intently; he's barely even twitching, because he's listening so hard.

Craig's not nearly as interested. "Hetero nonsense," he scoffs. 

Tweek waves at him to shut up.

Craig does, because he loves Tweek, and also because he's thinking about this gorgeous tuxedo he saw in the window of a Men's Warehouse the other day, and how good it would look on his boyfriend as he stood next to him on Token and Nichole's special day. 

"You think he'll make us the groomsmen?" Craig asks Tweek casually.

"He better," Tweek replies, and Craig smiles at him.

Across the room, at another table, sits Kyle, Kenny, Butters, and Cartman. Stan's at work, and Kyle's clearly missing him. Not missing him enough, however, to not glare at Cartman as he coos and cries over Nichole and Token.

"Eric," Butters is saying as sternly as he can, for the eighth time, "don't film people without them knowin'. It's rude."

Cartman, to everyone's annoyance except maybe Kenny, is blubbering grossly. He's got actual tears streaming down his face, and Kyle can't tell if it's performative or if he's just that fucking annoying. 

"They're so fucking in love," he sobs.

Kenny's slyly sneaking french fries off Cartman's plate, silent, but grinning a bit at the ridiculousness of it all.

Kyle throws a ketchup packet at Cartman's head. He was aiming for his nose, but it gets him in the cheek.

Cartman turns to glare at him through watery eyes, though his phone is still aimed at the couple. "Kahl, you know I'm in charge of cataloging Nichole and Token's entire relationship, so they'll be able to watch these videos when they're old! I got them together in the first place, so it's only fair I get to be the one who keeps a record of the highs and lows! You wouldn't understand, 'cause Jews aren't capable of love."

"I'm sure Token and Nichole won't want to hear your anti-semitic bullshit in the background of this creepy ass video when they watch it in sixty years," Kyle retorts. 

"It is a little bit creepy," Butters says.

"Shut the fuck up, Butters," Cartman whispers, zooming in on Nichole and Token's retreating forms as they walk away, hand in hand. Token's carrying all of her bags. "OhmyGod," he whispers. "So fucking cute."

Kenny snatches the last fry off Cartman's plate.


End file.
